Conspiracy Of One
by Wyvern's Elucidated Brethren
Summary: Red over White, it's one last fatal scene... The Dark Lord is poised to take over the world in one glorious battle. He has every advantage. But he hadn't counted on the actions of 'someone unseen'...


  
A/N: This fic was inspired by the wonderful song of the same name from the fabulous Offspring.   
Disclaimer: The song belongs to Dexter Holland et al from The Offspring; anything HP related belongs to JK Rowling.   
  
  
Voldemort strode into his room, flanked by Death Eaters. Soon...soon the world would be his for the taking. Soon, the Final Battle would be fought. He couldn't fail to win. He had everything on his side: the advantage of numbers, the advantage of Dark magic and sorcery...and soon, not even Potter would stand in his way. It was a good day to be alive!   
  
Voldemort stood at the head of the table, looking down at his faithful servants, Wormtail on his right-hand side. The air was buzzing with excitement. They knew that soon, they would bask in the glory that only world domination could provide.   
  
Voldemort raised his hands, and the room fell silent, every eye on him. He allowed the silence to linger for a moment before beginning.   
  
"My faithful servants, one week today we march on Hogwarts. The battle that we have struggled for. We have strived for so long, training our soldiers, becoming fighters, preparing ourselves. And one week today, we will reap the rewards. We will destroy the school and the old fool who runs it. And once we have destroyed our most powerful enemy, the world will be ours for the taking.   
  
"I know some of you are concerned about losing your lives. Do not be, for though the mortal body may be destroyed, the immortal can not be, and we will be reunited once we have control of the world. All men die. That much is certain in life. But not so for us! We will be immortal. We will be gods!"   
  
Tumultuous applause followed the speech, and Voldemort dismissed his followers, after drawing Lucius Malfoy to one side. He smiled a cruel, evil smile as he watched his followers leave.   
  
"They are confident, my Lord," said Lucius.   
"And so they should be. We cannot lose, Lucius! How is the training coming along?"   
"Splendidly, my Lord. The new fighters have a lust for the coming battle. They are keen, and they are deadly. We also have a number of berserkers in the ranks. They will be invaluable." Voldemort nodded. He knew all about the advantages of having a berserker fighting for you. They were unencumbered by feelings of fear, they had an insatiable appetite for killing. When the battle begins, the red mist falls, and they think of nothing but killing the enemy. They would fight on to the last, even if they had lost all their limbs and would have to tear with their teeth, and when, if at all, they finally went, they made damn sure that they took a number of the enemy with them.   
  
"Excellent, Lucius. You have done well. But I did not wish to talk of the fighting. Is the boy ready?"   
"He is, my Lord. He has been looking forward to this day. He will serve you heart and soul, as I do."   
"Bring him to the Chamber tonight at midnight for the initiation."   
"Midnight?" Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little...melodramatic?"   
"I have standards to maintain, Lucius. It will be nicely symbolic. The boy will be invaluable to us. Now you may go. I have to prepare for the initiation." Lucius bowed and strode out of the room.   
  
*  
  
Draco Malfoy surveyed himself in the mirror with a heavy heart. He had to admit that he looked good in the menacing garb of the Death Eaters. It was just....he didn't really want to join. Life had been good before Voldemort returned. He was rich and important, without a care in the world. And now, he would have to accept the oath of the Death Eaters, to serve Lord Voldemort until death. And he would have to fight in the Battle. He was to be given the 'glorious' task of handing Potter over to the Dark Lord. And the prospect galled him. He knew that his apprehension was entirely self-centred; life was too good at the moment to throw away. But it was his life, dammit, and he wanted to be left alone to live how he wanted. He wanted an easy life, to be too rich to even care about anything, his own little palace by the sea, and a host of women to keep him company. He didn't like the idea of someone else being in control of his destiny. But there were standards to maintain. Holding his head high, Draco strode out into the hall.   
  
Death Eaters were lining the room. Draco ignored them, keeping his gaze fixed on the spot where Voldemort was to appear. He appeared cool and disinterested, keeping his inner emotions buried.   
  
Voldemort appeared in a blaze of fire and thunder. Draco was impressed. He certainly knew how to make an entrance. Voldemort approached him and he bowed low.   
  
"Draco Malfoy, you are to join the ranks of the elite army, the Death Eaters. You are to become one of the most respected, and most feared men of the country. Do you swear your allegiance to me, and promise to serve me until death?"   
"I do, my Lord," said Draco clearly and confidently.   
"You have courage, young Malfoy, but first there will be a test to prove your worth. Crucio!" Draco gasped as the pain hit him. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to shut it out, forcing himself to remain upright, to remain still, to ignore it, but it was so hard...  
  
Suddenly the pain lifted, and Draco opened his eyes. Voldemort was smiling.   
"Good. You have passed the first stage. Wormtail, bring out the prisoner!" Draco observed the prisoner as he was brought in. He was tall and strong, and was a recent prisoner as he still had a defiant air and did not have the hollow, haunted look Draco had seen on so many occasions, when his father had taken him to the dungeons. The prisoner was untied and given a wand.   
  
"Your task is to duel with the prisoner. You must use two of the Unforgivable Curses, and the duel must last for at least ten minutes. One of the curses you must use must be Avada Kedavra. Three, two, one... you may begin."   
  
Draco hit the prisoner with the Cruciatus curse and let him write with agony for a moment. He didn't enjoy the feeling of torturing the man and relieved the curse, diving away just in time as the prisoner sent a hex his way.   
  
The duel was closely fought. The prisoner was in his twenties and had the advantage of speed and strength built from experience, but Draco had quick reflexes born of his Quidditch training and narrowly escaped being xed on a number of occasions.   
  
When the ten minutes were up, Draco blocked a hex sent his way and counter-attacked with the Petrificus Totalus hex. The prisoner was now helpless, unable to move, and Draco performed the killing spell on him, feeling a hollow sort of satisfaction as he did so. He then turned to face Lord Voldemort.   
  
"Draco Malfoy, you have proved yourself worthy of being a member of this elite army. Roll up your sleeve." Draco obeyed, and Voldemort pressed his fingers on Draco's left forearm. Draco felt the stinging of burning flesh, and, two seconds later, Voldemort removed his hand to reveal the Dark Mark burned into Draco's arm.   
  
"The initiation is complete," Voldemort announced. Draco bowed again before his master.  
"I am your faithful servant, Lord," he declared.  



End file.
